


Homesick

by genderqueer_batman



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Case Fic, Gen, Season/Series 06
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-07 15:15:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11061660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genderqueer_batman/pseuds/genderqueer_batman
Summary: Mulder and Scully are investigating a case in the suburbs of Chicago, where several victims have been found completely dehydrated.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yoooo this is my first x-files fic after doing nothing but binge watching last semester when I should have been studying

She put her turn signal on and glanced over her shoulder to check her blindspot. Moving into the left lane, she said, “Alexa, babe, relax, he’s gonna love you.”

The woman in the passenger seat looked at her. “I’m not nervous, Beth.” When Beth’s only response was a raised eyebrow, she admitted, “Okay, I’m a little nervous. What if he doesn’t like me?”

“He’ll love you,” Beth reassured her. “And if he says anything you don’t like, he’s still my baby brother, I’ll kick his ass.”

With a small smile, “Thanks.”

The couple fell into silence again as Beth scanned the road signs. “We’re looking for West Brook Drive,” she told Alexa. “Let me know if you see it.”

A couple of streets later, there was a stoplight for West Brook Drive. Beth pulled into the left turn lane and waited for the oncoming traffic to clear.

When Beth made her turn, Alexa asked, “What’s the address?”

“6284,” replied Beth.

The number posted on the first building on the left side of the road was 5822. They still had a few blocks. Beth took her right hand off the steering wheel and, without looking over, put it on her girlfriend’s thigh. “It’s gonna be fine, babe. Stop worrying.”

Alexa nodded, looking out of the window for the address.

After a couple minutes, Beth braked and said, “Here it is.” She pulled into the parking lot behind the gray five-story building. She turned the car off and squeezed Alexa’s hand. “It’ll be fine, babe. Timmy’s been begging me to bring you over for weeks. He’s gonna love you. Besides, you’ve already got my parents’ approval.”

“I don’t know why I’m this nervous,” said Alexa, not meeting Beth’s eyes. “I’ll probably be fine when we get inside.”

“Are you ready?”

Alexa bit her lip and nodded, waiting for Beth to get out first.

“Can you believe there is no elevator in this building?” said Beth as the two of them climbed up the stairs. “I helped Tim move in, and let me tell you carrying an entire apartment of furniture up to the fourth floor was not fun.”

“It doesn’t sound fun.” Alexa let go of Beth’s hand as she heard someone start to come down the stairs, only taking it in hers again when that person passes by.

Finally they make it to the fourth floor. “Timmy’s in 412, it’s at the end of the hall,” said Beth, all but dragging Alexa along. She knocked on the door, and they waited.

And they waited.

Beth knocked again. “Tim?” she called. “Timmy? It’s me.”

And they waited.

“He gave me an extra key,” mumbled Beth, reaching in her pocket for her keys. “In case of emergencies.”

“You really think this is an emergency?” said Alexa.

Without replying, Beth slid a small square brass key into the lock. She heard a click, and turned the doorknob.

The curtains were closed and the lights were off. Why was it so dark in here? Beth felt along the wall by the doorway for a light switch.

Only to find her brother curled up in the fetal position on the couch, dead.

 

***

 

The office was dark, but unlocked, when Scully arrived at work in the morning. “Mulder?” she called, cautiously stepping inside.

The projector whirred to life, and as the screen warmed up Scully could see Mulder moving in the shadows. “I got a case for us, Scully,” he said by way of greeting.

Scully leaned against the desk and raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

The first image on the slideshow was a family of three. Without saying anything, Mulder clicked over to the next slide, which was a picture of a couple; the next slide was another family; the next a young woman.

Pausing on the young woman, Mulder asked, “Do you know what all these people have in common, Scully?”

“I’m guessing they died,” said Scully.

Mulder nodded. “A total of forty-four people in five different states have died under mysterious circumstances in the past three years,” he told her. “The cause of death appears to be extreme dehydration, as the bodies were completely drained of water; however, every victim had access to clean water up until their deaths.”

“What’s the crime, Mulder?” Scully brushed her hair behind her ear. “How do we investigate this case? You said yourself that nothing is connecting the victims besides cause of death. The next one could be anybody.”

“The most recent one,” Mulder clicked to the next slide, “was Timothy Green. A twenty-three year old intern at a university a couple towns over. Found by his sister and her girlfriend two days ago in his apartment in Aubrey, Illinois.”

“Has an autopsy been done?” asked Scully.

“Not yet.” Mulder turned the projector off. “We leave for Chicago in three hours. You up for doing the autopsy today, Scully?”

“I suppose so. Has Skinner cleared this?”

Mulder turned to look at her, seemingly genuinely insulted. “What kind of person do you take me for, Scully?”

She opened her mouth to reply, but then thought better of it.

“Do you have a bag packed, or do you need to stop off at home before we go to the airport?”

“I have a bag in the trunk of my car,” Scully told him. “I can be ready to leave whenever.”

Nodding, Mulder slid a folder across the desk. “Here’s the case file for you to look over,” he said. “It’s got the autopsy reports of all the previous victims. No murder suspect has been named.”

“But you think these are murder cases?” Scully picked up the folder.

“I think it’s an X-file.”


	2. Chapter 2

“I’ve never heard of this before, Mulder. It’s not possible for a body to be completely drained of water immediately after death.”

Mulder glanced over at Scully from the driver’s side of their rented Taurus. “Can you think of anything that might cause such rapid dehydration?”

Scully flipped a page in the case file open on her lap and shook her head. “There are factors that can affect the level of hydration at death, like diet and climate, but not to this degree.”

“Do you have a theory?”

“No, Mulder, I don’t,” she replied. “Not yet, anyway. I’m hoping that the autopsy today will help to answer some of the questions that I have.” After a small pause, she went on, “I suppose you have a theory? Is total dehydration a common side effect of alien abduction?”

“No, actually,” said Mulder, braking at the red light and checking the map taped to the dashboard. “I don’t believe aliens are involved in this case at all.”

“Then why are we here, Mulder?”

The light turned green, and Mulder accelerated as he answered, “Skinner was really getting on my ass about this one, it was marked urgent before this most recent death and–” then, seeing Scully’s raised eyebrow, “Oh. You’re joking.”

Turning back to the file, Scully said, “I’m interested to hear your theory, though, Mulder. What do you think happened to these people?”

“I’m not sure either, Scully, I was hoping you’d find something new in the autopsy,” said Mulder. “I’ve also arranged an interview with the couple who found him. Do you want to come with me, or should I talk to them while you do the autopsy?”

Not looking up, Scully flipped another page and replied, “You can go on ahead. I want to take my time on the autopsy. The medical examiners must have missed something, and I intend to find out what.”

“Thirty-two MEs in five different states all missed whatever it was that caused this?” The incredulity was obvious in Mulder’s tone.

“I’ve been on the X-Files since 1992, Mulder,” said Scully. “I’m used to looking for things out of the ordinary that others might miss.”

“If anyone can find out what caused this, it’ll be you, Scully,” agreed Mulder, reaching over to give her shoulder a playful shove.

“Make a right up ahead, I think we’re almost there.”

***

Mulder dropped Scully off at the Aubrey Community Hospital, where she met up with the detective assigned to the Green case.

“Peter Wyatt,” he introduced himself to Scully in front of the morgue entrance. “I suppose you’re the FBI agent?”

Pulling her badge out of her coat, she showed it to Detective Wyatt. “Special Agent Dana Scully,” she said. “Will you be joining me on the autopsy today?”

“Yes I will,” said Wyatt, pushing open the door to the morgue. “What about your partner, is he coming?”

Scully shook her head, entering the morgue. “Agent Mulder is meeting with the family of the deceased,” she told him. “He has a few more questions for them that haven’t been asked that we believe will help us find out what happened to Green, and to the others who died of the same cause.”

“The Aubrey Police Department was pretty thorough in our interrogation.” Wyatt sounded defensive.

“We’re aware of that,” Scully reassured him. “But Agent Mulder has more experience with cases like these, cases with no obvious rational explanation. We looked over past cases that may have been helpful to us.”

“And were they helpful?”

“We’ll know when we solve the case.”

***

Adamston, Illinois was about a twenty minute drive from Aubrey. Car rides seemed shorter without Scully somehow. Mulder made good time, and stopped at a gas station to fill up and get sunflower seeds and a map.

Twenty minutes later, Mulder was pulling up in front of a red brick house. He got out of his car and walked up a stone path to knock on the front door.

He hadn’t been waiting long when a middle-aged woman with shoulder length brown hair opened the door. “Can I help you?” she asked.

“Special Agent Fox Mulder.” He showed her his ID as he introduced himself. “Kathy Green?” When she nodded, Mulder went on, “I spoke with your husband on the phone earlier today. I have a few more questions I’d like to ask you regarding your son’s death.”

Mrs. Green stepped back to allow Mulder in, and then closed the door behind him. “Have a seat,” she invited, leading him into the living room. “Just give me a minute to find Joe and the girls. They’re all around here somewhere.”

So Mulder sat in one of the poufy armchairs and looked around the room as Mrs. Green walked through the house, calling for the others.

Three chairs and a couch, all a matching shade of light blue, were arranged around a glass coffee table with a vase of tulips in the center. There was a brown stone fireplace on the far wall, with framed photographs on the mantle that were too small for Mulder to make out. On the adjacent wall was a black-and-white painting of a violin, close enough to Mulder’s chair that he could almost reach out and touch it. A piano rested in the corner opposite the fireplace.

A heavyset man with glasses and a beard entered the room and sat down in the middle of the couch. He greeted Mulder with a nod.

Mulder nodded back, but didn’t say anything until Mrs. Green came back followed by two women in their early twenties. Mrs. Green sat in one of the chairs, and the young women sat on either side of the man on the couch.

“I must say, I was surprised when Joe got your call,” Mrs. Green told Mulder. “I thought we’d told the police all they needed to know.”

“We’ve since found out that your son was not the only person who died in that manner,” Mulder replied. “There have been over forty cases in the past three years, and only now was the Bureau able to send someone out to investigate.” That wasn’t entirely true, but the Greens didn’t need to know that.

“I thought they didn’t know what happened to him,” one of the young women spoke up. She leaned across the coffee table, extending her hand. Mulder took it and she said, “Alexa Carter. Nice to meet you.”

“We’re still not entirely sure,” Mulder admitted. “We know that every victim so far has been found completely drained of water. My partner is currently trying to figure out how it happened.”

“We’ve already been questioned by the Aubrey police,” said Mrs. Green. “We’ve told them everything we know.”

“I’ve read those interviews,” said Mulder, “and I have a few more questions I believe will benefit this investigation.”

“Which are?”

“Your son was pursuing a degree in biology, and he was interning at a research lab at Northern Illinois University,” said Mulder. “Do you know what kind of research he was doing?”

“Yeah, it was some environmental shit,” said the woman who hadn’t spoken, who Mulder assumed to be Beth Green, the sister. “He was minoring in meteorology.”

“Nothing to do with water?”

“Not specifically, no,” she said. “Why, you think he could have invented a particle that zapped water molecules? That doesn’t exist outside of science fiction.”

Remembering the case with the freezing agent and the time traveler, Mulder said, “You’d be surprised.” He hadn’t thought that was a likely possibility, but it didn’t hurt to ask. “I’ve mentioned forty previous victims. Do you know if Tim had contact with any of them?” He slid a sheet of paper listing the names of the previous victims across the coffee table.

Mr. Green picked up the sheet and held it so that Beth and Alexa could both see it as well. After a minute, Alexa said, “I don’t know about Tim, but I went to high school with a couple of these people. We were neighbors.”

“Have you talked to them since then?”

Alexa shook her head. “Not since they moved to Madison. We just lost touch, I guess.”

“Thank you all for your time.” Mulder stood up and checked his watch; if he left now he could probably catch the end of the autopsy. “I’ll call you if I have any further questions.”

Mrs. Green walked him to the front door, asking him to call once he had any news of what happened to her son. Mulder handed her his card, telling her to call him if she thought of anything else that might help the case. She agreed and shut the door behind him as he left.

Mulder called Scully as he backed out of the driveway, and she picked up on the third ring. “Scully.”

“Scully it’s me,” Mulder said. “How’s the autopsy?”

“It’s not going very well,” admitted Scully. “Mulder, do you know how hard it is to cut into someone with no water molecules in their entire body? I was this close to asking if they had a chisel.”

Mulder couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Have you found anything out yet?”

“Nothing besides the obvious,” she said. “And the detective the Aubrey PD sent to help me…” Her voice trailed off, and Mulder had just taken a breath to interject when she finished, “He’s a character.”

“Worse than anyone else we’ve worked with?” Mulder turned off the residential road onto a busier one.

“Significantly.” She didn’t offer details.

So Mulder felt compelled to ask. “Worse than me?” Barely a second passed before Mulder chuckled and said, “I can hear you rolling your eyes, Scully.”

“Listen, the detective is coming in again, I gotta get back to the autopsy.”

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes, Scully.” Mulder hung up and tossed his phone into the passenger seat.

After an uneventful drive back to the Aubrey Community Hospital, Mulder showed his badge to the morgue attendant. He let him in and directed him to the room where the autopsy was being performed. Even in the hallway, Mulder could hear Scully loudly arguing with someone.

Both of them paused their debate when Mulder entered the room. “Mulder,” Scully greeted him, relief evident in her voice. “Meet Detective Wyatt.”

“I’d shake your hand, but uh.” Mulder gestured to Wyatt’s latex covered hand.

Wyatt was not interested in introductions. “Agent Mulder, tell this partner of yours that this is not how you do an autopsy.”

Was he expecting Mulder to simply agree with him? “My partner is an MD and has been a pathologist for most of a decade,” he told Wyatt. “Can you say the same?”

“I… well, no.”

“Then you’ll forgive me if I trust Scully’s judgment.” He met her gaze, which clearly was telling him to play nice with the local law enforcement. “What’s the problem here, Scully?”

Scully set the tool in her hand down on the table next to Green’s partially cut-open body. “The problem is that Detective Wyatt wants to cut corners. He–”

“What’s the point in examining the heart and the liver?” Wyatt interrupted her. “We know that that’s not the cause of death. Forty other pathologists found nothing in the internal organs that could have caused this. Skip ahead to something else.”

Was he serious? Mulder was sure he failed to hide his irritation as he looked towards Scully, who quirked an eyebrow at him. He turned back to Wyatt and said, “If you don’t want to solve this case, then I suggest that you leave and let my partner do her job.”

Wyatt’s face reddened. “What makes you think I don’t want to solve the case, Agent Mulder?”

“The fact that you don’t want her to follow traditional procedure, for one.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Really.” This was Scully. “Then explain why we’ve been standing here arguing for the better part of an hour, and every time I try to continue the autopsy you stop me.”

She might have been done with the autopsy had Wyatt not kept her from doing it. They might have had their answers by now. But instead, she got stuck with crappy local law enforcement.

With the two of them staring Wyatt down, he relented. “Fine. Do what you want. I don’t care.”

Scully gave a short nod, and turned back to the body. “Put a pair of gloves on, Mulder, and help me cut his heart out.”

***

“So what do you think, Scully? What killed Tim Green?”

They had found a motel in Aubrey after Scully finally completed the autopsy and spread out in one of their rooms to compare notes; sitting next to each other on the bed, their case notes were arranged in front of them.

“Well, from the autopsy today, it seems like his body started to dehydrate at a much faster rate than he could rehydrate,” said Scully. “And when he died, the water continued to dry out until there was none left in his body. I still don’t know what could have caused such rapid dehydration. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Maybe we’ll find something new when we get the toxicology report back,” said Mulder.

Scully had scraped off some dried blood from the inside of Green’s arteries to send to the lab. Unfortunately, since Wyatt had delayed them so much, by the time Scully was ready to send the samples in the lab had closed. They wouldn’t get the results until the end of the next day at the earliest.

“I’m not holding my breath on that,” said Scully. “The whole autopsy was largely a waste of time, Mulder. I didn’t find anything new that wasn’t in the previous victims’ reports.”

“Well, I found something out when I talked to the family,” said Mulder.

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“The sister’s girlfriend mentioned having been neighbors with two of the previous victims,” Mulder told her. “Don’t you think that’s an awfully big coincidence?”

“We’ve seen stranger things, Mulder,” said Scully. “Sometimes it’s just a coincidence.”

“I’ve been in this job too long to just count it out.” Mulder gathered some of the papers together, and Scully helped with the rest. “I think tomorrow, we should go back to Adamston and see if the library has records of who’s lived there.”

Scully handed Mulder her stack of papers. “What, and you think we’ll find out that every person who died in this case has lived in Adamston? Don’t you think someone would have made the connection by now?”

“Not necessarily, Scully. A lot of things get overlooked. I wouldn’t have even thought to check if the girl hadn’t said anything.”

“Is this your room or mine?” said Scully. “I’m tired. I’m ready for bed.”

Mulder waggled his eyebrows. “Bed, you say?”

“Shut up Mulder. I’ll see you in the morning.” Scully got up and opened the connecting door to her own room. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Mulder called as she closed the door. He reached over and set an alarm for 7:00 the next morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading :)


	3. Chapter 3

Mulder and Scully got an early start the next morning; by 8:00 am they were on their way to the Adamston Public Library.

“I know what you’re hoping to find, Mulder,” said Scully, breaking the silence that had fallen after they’d stopped for coffee, “but what if we don’t? What if it’s a dead end?”

“It won’t be,” Mulder said with confidence. “But if I’m wrong, I’ll buy lunch and we’ll go over the case notes again to try to find another lead.”

Half an hour through rush hour traffic later, the two of them arrived at the Adamston library. The parking lot was small, with only twenty spaces, and there were only two other cars there.

“After you,” said Mulder, holding the front door open for Scully.

Scully walked to the information desk, Mulder right behind her, where a woman with tortoiseshell glasses was sitting at a computer. Scully cleared her throat and said, “Excuse me.”

In a friendly voice, the woman said, “Hello! How can I help you today?”

Showing her his badge, Mulder said, “We’re Agents Mulder and Scully with the FBI, we were hoping you had census records of some kind here.”

“That we do!” said the woman, whose name tag read Francis. “All town records are on the second floor. Up the stairs and to the right. You can’t miss it.”

“Thank you,” said Scully, turning away from the desk and heading toward the stairs.

Mulder followed, but because his legs were longer than Scully’s he made it to the top before her. There was a sign that read ‘Adamston: A History’ to his right, like Francis had said. “Here we go, Scully.”

It was a section of three rows of shelves that stretched back to the opposite wall. The one closest to the stairs was labeled 1817-1892; the one after that was labeled 1893-1969; the last was 1970-1998, but that shelf was mostly empty.

“Here.” Mulder handed Scully a copy of the victims list. “You look in the 1893-1969 section, I’ll get the later ones. Let me know when you find out I’m right.”

The copy Mulder gave her had the birth years next to the name of the victim. Unfortunately, the list was in alphabetical order, not in chronological order. Scully took a deep breath. This was going to take a while.

Everything was labeled by year – birth records, death records, population records, everything. The pristine organization made it easier for Scully to find what she was looking for.

After half an hour had passed, Mulder peeked around to Scully’s shelf. “Find anything out, Scully?”

Engrossed in the files and not having noticed him, Scully startled. “Jesus, Mulder, you scared me.”

“What have you got so far?” he asked again.

“I hate to say this, Mulder, but everybody on this list so far was born at the Adamston Health Center,” Scully told him. “This is unbelievable.”

“I won’t say I told you so because I don’t want you to get mad at me, but even you have to admit that I’m right,” said Mulder. “What do you wanna do now that we have this information?”

“Hold on, I’m not done checking these names,” said Scully. “It would only take one to disprove your theory. Just because I haven’t found it yet doesn’t mean I’m never going to.”

“Only you, Scully.” Mulder shook his head. “You know, most people would call this good enough and think of the next step in the investigation.”

“I’m not most people, Mulder.” Scully turned back to the file in her hand, a copy of a birth certificate stapled to a copy of a death certificate. Alice Gregory, who was born in Adamston in 1961 and died in Springfield in 1996. That was another name for Scully to cross off.

Eventually, though, she did have to accept that Mulder was right. She found him sitting on a bench by the open window. “Mulder?”

He turned and grinned at her. “What’s the plan?”

“Well, I figure we should talk to the police chief about this, see if he knows anything about this “ said Scully. “Unless you have any other leads?”

Mulder shook his head and stood up. “I’m a profiler, Scully,” he said. “I can’t come up with a profile when there’s no killer.”

“So what do you think is going on, if it’s not one person killing these people?”

“I don’t know, Scully,” he said. “We’ll go talk to the police chief, then. Find out what he knows.”

Together they went down the stairs. When they passed the front desk again, Mulder asked Francis, “Hey, can you give us directions to the police station?”

“Turn left out of the parking lot, and make another left onto First Street,” said Francis, pushing her glasses up her nose. “After about a mile, turn north onto State Street. The station will be on your right.”

Mulder nodded. “Thanks.”

Once outside the library, something caught Scully’s attention. “Mulder, come take a look at this.”

“What is it?”

It was a copper statue of a man with a beard and a monocle. He was holding his hat as he stared off into the distance.

“Reuben Adams, 1776-1831,” Scully read off the base of the statue. “Adamston, Illinois: a tradition of peace founded on violence.”

Just as Scully read the last word aloud, the eyes of the statue seemed to move. She blinked. It must have been a trick of the light.

“Hmm.” As Mulder looked at the elegant font engraved into the statue, he wondered, “What kind of violence was this town founded on?”

“Illinois joined the United States in 1817,” said Scully. “If we assume that this town was founded around that time, there must have still been tribes of Native Americans on the land. They could be talking about the violence used to drive them out.”

“Could be.”

They stood looking at the statue for a minute, and then Scully turned around toward the car. “Shall we?”

Mulder pulled the keys out of his pocket and unlocked the car. “Let’s go,” he said. He started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. “Did she say left out of the parking lot?”

Scully nodded. “And then another left after that.”

“Yeah, I got that.”

They drove in silence, until Scully reminded Mulder where the next turn was. “Coming up is State Street. Make sure to get into the right lane.”

Mulder put his signal on and got into the turn lane. When he made his turn, he said, “Help me watch out for the station, Scully. I don’t want to miss it.”

Even with the both of them looking for the police station, Mulder still drove past it and had to turn around. While he was looking for a parking spot, he said to Scully, “So what are you planning on asking the police chief? How do you think he can help us?”

“I was going to tell him about the deaths to see if he heard anything about them,” Scully told Mulder. “It’s admittedly not likely, since they’re outside his jurisdiction by this point, but there’s no harm in asking.”

“Anything else?” Mulder pulled into an empty space and parked the car.

Scully got out of the car and shut her door, waiting for Mulder to do the same before responding, “I was also going to ask about the town’s slogan,” she said. “It’s possible that it could be a revenge plot, on behalf of who was wronged by the violence that founded the town.”

“I see.”

“Why?” said Scully. “Do you have something else in mind?”

Mulder nearly tripped over the curb as he stepped up. “No, I think you might be onto something, Scully.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Fox Mulder, agree with one of my theories? That’s something else we might want to investigate.”

“Ha, ha.” Like at the library, Mulder held the door open for Scully.

Side by side, Mulder’s hand at the small of Scully’s back, the two of them walked up to the front desk, where a secretary was pecking at the keyboard at a breathless 20 words per minute. He was young, round-faced, and barely looked up at them as they approached.

“Excuse me,” said Scully, showing her badge. “We’re Agents Scully and Mulder with the FBI, and we’d like to talk with your police chief regarding a case we’re working on.”

“Captain Kim is unavailable until 1 pm this afternoon,” the secretary told them. Eyeing Scully appreciatively, he added, “But you’re welcome to wait.”

Exchanging a look with Mulder, Scully said, “We’ll come back at 1.” She turned around and walked out of the building, Mulder following behind.

Once they were outside, Mulder said, “So, Scully, what do you plan on doing for the next,” he made a show of checking his watch, “two hours and ten minutes?”

“I don’t know, Mulder, but I didn’t want that kid staring at me for two hours and ten minutes,” said Scully. “I’m sure we can find something productive to do while we wait.”

“For starters, I believe you owe me lunch?” Mulder said as he unlocked the car and got in.

“Mulder, it’s not even 11 am,” protested Scully. “And I never said anything about lunch.”

“Whatever you say, Scully.” Mulder grinned as Scully sighed and got in the car.

“Where do you want to go?”

 

***

 

By 12:56, Mulder and Scully were back at the police station. The same secretary was sitting behind the front desk, but he’d abandoned the pretense of working in favor of eating a sandwich dripping with mayonnaise.

Before Scully could say anything, he told her around a mouthful of sandwich, “I emailed May, she said she has time to talk to you this afternoon.”

“May?”

“Captain Kim,” the secretary explained slowly, as if Mulder was stupid. “Or do you not want to see her anymore?”

“No, we do,” said Mulder. “When can we see her?”

“I dunno. Soon. She said she’d call down when she gets off her lunch break.”

“Do you know when that will be?”

The kid shrugged. “Could be anytime between now and 1:30.”

“Thank you. We’ll just wait over here.” Scully indicated a wooden bench against a wall in perfect view of the front desk.

“Sure. Whatever. I’ll let you guys know when May calls for you.”

The secretary turned back to his sandwich as Mulder and Scully went to sit down on the bench.

Within fifteen minutes, the phone on the front desk rang. The kid answered it and had a short conversation with whoever was on the other end. He hung it back on the receiver and made eye contact with Scully. “You guys,” he called. “May wants to see you now. She’s upstairs. In her office.”

“And where’s that?”

“Upstairs,” repeated the kid. “Trust me, you can’t miss it.”

The stairwell was just down a hallway to the left of the front desk. It was dark and narrow, and Scully’s shoulders tensed even though she knew nothing was going to happen.

When they reached the top of the stairs, Mulder put a hand on her shoulder. “Relax,” he murmured. “Although you’d think that a police station would have a less creepy staircase.”

“You’d think,” agreed Scully.

The kid had been right when he told them that they couldn’t miss the police chief’s office. It was the first door on the right, clearly labeled in purple stencil letters ‘Police Chief May Kim’.

Even though the door was open, Mulder knocked softly before he and Scully entered.

“Come in,” said an out-of-sight woman, soft voice full of authority.

Mulder stepped back slightly to let Scully go in before him. The office was small but not cramped. One wall had a bookshelf holding books and binders; next to it was a file cabinet. Another wall had a bulletin board nearly overflowing with papers. The wall behind the desk was bare.

Only a couple things were on the desk: a computer and keyboard, a telephone, and an unlabeled black binder. No personal items. The surface of the desk was so polished, Scully could see her reflection in it.

“Have a seat,” invited the uniformed woman sitting behind the desk. She had wavy dark hair and bangs that just reached her eyebrows. Her chin was pointed but the expression on her slightly wrinkled face was friendly.

Mulder and Scully pulled up a wooden chair and sat.

“You the feds?” asked Captain Kim.

Scully nodded, showing her her badge. “Special Agents Scully and Mulder,” she introduced them. “We work in the X-Files division of the FBI.”

“The X-Files?”

“Cases outside the Bureau mainstream,” elaborated Scully. “Many of these cases are characterized by unexplained phenomena.”

“Am I or are any of my officers under suspicion?” asked Kim. “I can assure you, there is nothing unexplained happening in Adamston.”

“No, ma’am, nobody is under suspicion here,” said Mulder. “But we do have a few questions for you about the case we’re currently investigating.”

Kim nodded once, slowly, allowing him to proceed.

“We have forty-four victims in five different states who all died in exactly the same strange way,” Mulder told her. “We have nothing to connect the victims, other than that they were all born and grew up in Adamston.”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” replied Kim, after a short pause in which she was obviously hoping Mulder would divulge more details. “As you can see, thousands of people who were born and grew up in Adamston are still alive and well.”

“It appears that the victims only died after leaving Adamston. Do you know anything about that?”

Kim frowned. “Are you suggesting, Agent Mulder, that someone is targeting people for moving away from Adamston? What possible motive could they have?”

“We’re not suggesting that, ma’am,” said Scully. “The nature of the victims’ deaths leads us to believe that no person could have killed them.”

“If this isn’t a murder case, what are you here for?”

Scully exchanged a look with Mulder. She tipped her head, prompting Mulder to ask, “We were also wondering about the town slogan. ‘A tradition of peace founded on violence.’ Could you tell us what that means?”

“Is it significant to the case?”

“It could be related,” Scully said.

Kim nodded. “Adamston has the lowest crime rates in the county, has had since before the Civil War,” she told them. “But when the town was founded, well, the town founder beat his wife. One day she had enough and killed him. Fled to Iowa when the rest of the townsfolk found out.”

Another look. “Thank you for your time,” said Mulder. “Does the library have a history of the town that we can read?”

“Sure,” said Kim. “Just ask Francis at the front desk. Nice gal.”

Mulder nodded, reaching into his pocket and sliding his card across the desk. “If you think of anything else that might help us, you can call me at this number,” he told her as he stood up.

“Thank you for your help,” said Scully, standing as well.

Kim merely gave another nod in acknowledgement as the two agents left her office.

They waited until they got outside to discuss the case. “Well, what do you think, Mulder?”

“I think we should go back to the library and read more about Reuben Adams and his wife,” said Mulder. “It could be a descendent of his, possibly even killing these people without even realizing it.”

“Sure, Mulder.”

“Well, what do you think, Scully?” Mulder’s words were tinged with defensiveness.

“I don’t know what to think yet, Mulder,” she said. “Let’s go back to the library to read about the town history. We might find something there.”

“Dana Scully, agree with me?” Mulder acted shocked, repeating Scully’s earlier words about him. “This is the real X-File here.”

“Shut up, Mulder.”

 

***

 

Back in the reference section of the library, Mulder was sitting at a computer desk, Scully right behind him. Francis at the front desk had told them that they couldn’t check anything out without a library card, but that they could log in to the computer and print out articles that had been scanned. So far they had printed out five articles, a total of 36 pages, and were working on a sixth when Mulder’s cell phone rang.

“Mulder,” he greeted whoever was on the other end. Scully leaned in close to hear, and Mulder tilted the phone to make it easier on her.

“Agent Mulder, this is Captain May Kim.”

“I wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon, Captain. Has something happened?”

“Yes, Agent. I realized that I know someone who moved out of Adamston two years ago, and he’s still alive and well. I talked to him on the phone just yesterday.”

“Does he live near here? Can we talk to him?”

“He lives in Texas. Will that be a problem, Agent?”

Meeting Scully’s eyes, Mulder replied, “No, ma’am. What address can we find him at?”

As Kim gave the address, Scully wrote it down. “Thank you, Captain. We’ll be in touch.” Hanging up the phone, Mulder said to Scully with a grin, “Remember the last time we were in Texas?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is probably just under about halfway done. Thoughts so far?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which I could have posted this chapter 2 days ago but I got a virus :( 
> 
> There's only gonna be one more chapter after this. We're almost there guys!

The next available flight to Dallas, Texas wasn’t until 7 am the next day, so Mulder and Scully drove back to their motel in Aubrey to spend the night in Illinois.

They drove to the airport together, and the flight was uneventful until they got to Dallas.

Captain Kim had told the man they were meeting, Mike Baxter, that they would be stopping by. According to Kim, he was excited to meet Mulder and Scully and even offered to pick them up from the airport. The agents had declined.

However, barely five minutes after the airplane landed, Mulder’s cell phone rang. “Mulder,” he answered.

“Mulder! Whassup, dude?”

“Who is this?”

“It’s me, it’s Mike,” said the guy on the other end. “Mike Baxter? I got your number from May. She told me you guys didn’t want me to come to the airport to pick you up but I came anyway.”

“Mr. Baxter–”

“Just call me Mike, dude.”

“Mike, this isn’t standard procedure.” Mulder stopped walking and ducked out of the way of the other people, Scully following him. “I’ll have to ask you to go back home. My partner and I will meet you there soon.”

“No, no, man, I insist. Where y’all at?”

Mulder looked around. “We’re by the east entrance,” he said.

“Great, dude! I’ll be right there.”

“What was that about?” Scully asked Mulder as he hung up the phone.

“It seems,” said Mulder, leaning in close to her, “that our friend Mike Baxter is so excited to be interviewed by two real live FBI agents, he came to meet us here.” Leaning in even closer, he added, “He also says dude a lot.”

Scully raised an eyebrow at that. “Why don’t we just interview him here, Mulder? I’m sure we can find a quiet spot somewhere.”

Mulder nodded. “To be honest with you Scully, I’m not sure we should talk to this guy at all.”

“Why not?”

“He doesn’t seem reliable.”

Raising her eyebrow again, Scully said, “With all the unreliable witnesses you’ve interviewed in the past six years, I don’t see how you could possibly be having second thoughts now. And besides, he’s our best chance at solving this case.”

“I know, but–”

Whatever he was going to say was cut off by a man in his late twenties wearing cargo shorts and socks with flip flops. “Are you guys the FBI agents?” he asked in a loud voice, audible from the twenty yards away he was standing from Mulder and Scully.

Mulder gave Scully a look, one that said he was right and they both knew it, and started walking towards him. “Yes we are,” he said, plastering a smile on his face. “I’m Agent Mulder, this is my partner, Agent Scully. Mike Baxter?”

“Call me Mike, dude.”

“Well, Mike,” said Scully, emphasizing his name, “if you could just give us your address, we’ll rent a car and follow you to your house.”

Mike shook his head. “Nah, there’s no need for that. I live about two hours out of Dallas, and I’m already here,” he said. “There’s this really great coffee shop a couple miles from here, I thought I could take you guys out for coffee while we, you know.”

Mulder and Scully shared a look, but before either of them could respond, Mike hurriedly added, “Unless that’s not how y’all do things at the FBI, I don’t want to be breaking no laws.”

“No, Mike, that’s fine,” Scully told him. “Lead the way.”

So Mike turned around and started walking, Mulder and Scully following behind. Mulder put his hand on the small of Scully’s back, and she looked up at him. “We’ll leave this out of the report,” she whispered, and the corners of Mulder’s mouth twitched as he turned forward again.

***

Quiet Drop Coffee Shop didn’t quite live up to its name. The small café was packed with college students in between classes, books spread on tables but ignored in favor of a rowdy game of Egyptian rat screw.

“So, uh, let’s find a table,” said Mike, looking around for open seats.

Mulder, being the tallest, spotted a booth in the corner that they could squeeze into. Scully slid in first, then Mulder, his legs stretching out into the aisle. Mike took a seat in the chair on the other side.

“So, dudes, what’s this case about?” Mike asked them, leaning all the way across the table.

“There are certain details that we cannot discuss with you,” said Scully. “But we were assigned a case regarding the deaths of people from your hometown.”

Mike’s eyes widened. “You don’t think I did it, do you?”

“You’re not under suspicion, Mike,” said Mulder. “These deaths only occurred after they moved away from Adamston. We’re talking to you because you moved away from Adamston and have not died in the same way as the others.”

“Well, I don’t know why that is, dude,” said Mike. “Am I the only one?”

Scully nodded. “As far as we know. We only got your name from Captain Kim. It’s possible there are others, but we don’t know them.”

“Sure, sure.”

“Do you know of any others who moved out of Adamston within the past three years, Mike?” Scully asked him. “Have you been in contact with anyone?”

Mike shook his head. “Not really, dude. I only still talk to May because she was a friend of my mom’s.”

“Can you tell us where you’ve been since you left Adamston?” Mulder asked him. “Did you move directly to Texas?”

Mike chuckled and shook his head. “No, no, I’ve been all over,” he said. “I left Adamston in January of 1997, when I just turned 24. I hadn’t renewed my lease on time before they rented my apartment to someone else, so I spent some time traveling. Didn’t stay too long in one place. I ended up in Seattle until I realized I didn’t like the rain. So I drove south. Lived in a Motel 6 in Vegas for about four months. I was waiting until I made big money, you know?”

Mulder nudged Scully with his elbow. “Why have we never investigated a case in Vegas, Scully?”

Looking over at him, she replied, “Because you know what Skinner would think if we told him we had a case in Vegas, Mulder.” Turning back to Mike, she said, “Where did you go after that?”

“I won a couple thousand bucks off the slot machines, figured I’d quit when I was ahead. So I kept driving south. Then east. Camped out in California and Arizona for awhile. Stayed with a friend in New Mexico. That’s where I got this.” Mike rolled up the sleeve of his t shirt to reveal bold letters tattooed on his shoulder. “Then I left and came to Texas about a year ago. Met someone and,” he shrugged, “been here ever since.”

“Can you show me your tattoo again?” said Mulder.

“Sure, dude.” The tattoo was on Mike’s right shoulder, and he twisted so that Mulder could read it. The black letters were written inside a fiery sunflower. “Yeah, it says Adamston IL,” he said before Mulder could comment on it. “I just figured, you should never forget where you came from, you know?”

Mulder nudged Scully’s arm again, this time accompanied by a meaningful glance. Scully acknowledged this with a pair of raised eyebrows. “Mike, have you been drinking a lot of water recently?” she asked him.

Mike just shrugged at that. “Dunno dude, you’re supposed to drink eight glasses a day? Is that what doctors are saying? I probably don’t drink that much, but I’ll get a glass when I’m thirsty. Why?”

“So there’s no risk that you could suffer from dehydration?”

“I live in America, dude,” said Mike. “Dehydration doesn’t really happen here anymore.”

“You’d be surprised,” said Mulder. He shared a glance with Scully, who gave the slightest shake of her head. “Well, it was a pleasure talking to you, Mike. Here’s my card, in case you think of anything else that might help.”

“Sure, dude.” Mike took the card and stood up. He shook first Mulder’s hand, then Scully’s. “I’ll see you around.”

Mulder and Scully stayed seated. “Still think we shouldn’t have interviewed him, Scully?”

“Well, although we gained insight into the case that we wouldn’t have known had we not talked to him, I don’t see why it was necessary to fly all the way out here in order to do so,” she said.

“Did you not see his tattoo, Scully? That has to be it.”

“Has to be what, Mulder?”

“Has to be why he’s still alive, and the others aren’t,” explained Mulder. “It all makes sense, Scully. However this thing is targeting its victims, it must have passed over him because of the tattoo.”

“How do we know there even is a ‘thing’ targeting victims, Mulder?” said Scully. “What kind of thing would it be?”

Mulder shook his head. “I don’t know for sure, Scully, but it has to be a manifestation of dark energy dating back to when the town was founded. Whatever it is, it doesn’t like it when people leave.”

“Then why has it only been around for the past three years? Adamston was founded almost two hundred years ago, if everybody who moved away died we would have heard about this long before now.”

“Something must have changed three years ago.”

Scully exhaled sharply. “Like what, Mulder? A whole town can’t be killing people. That’s crazy, even for you.”

“Not the whole town, just a manifestation of energy of some sort,” said Mulder. He got up from the cramped booth and turned to face Scully. “We have to go back there and find out what. I’ll book us a flight back today.” After a particularly loud eruption from the card-playing students, he added, “I’ll call outside. Are you coming?”

***

The next available flight to Chicago wouldn’t leave until 4:00 that afternoon. It was just after noon when Mulder called, which left them too much spare time to just sit around and wait but not enough time to do anything productive.

So they went back inside Quiet Drop Coffee Shop, and Scully went up to the counter to order coffee for both her and Mulder, who asked the college students if they had an extra deck of cards.

“We’re on the clock, Mulder,” Scully protested.

“Relax, Scully, we’ll leave it out of the report.” He led her back to their table and sat down across from her. Taking off the rubber band holding the deck together and shuffling a couple times, he asked, “What do you want to play?”

“How about solitaire?” she suggested dryly.

Mulder’s hands paused as he looked at her. “Come on, Scully, live a little.” He dealt hands of seven and left the rest in a stack in the middle. “How about Go Fish?”

Scully picked up her cards with a sigh. “Got any threes?”

“Go fish.”

***

When they boarded the plane – Scully in the middle seat, Mulder in the aisle – Mulder pulled the case files out and spread them across his and Scully’s laps.

“I’m going to nap,” Scully told Mulder. “You better not disturb me with those papers unless it’s something important.”

“You’re going to nap? We’re on the clock, Scully,” Mulder teased her.

“Unlike you, I don’t get my best ideas midair.” Scully relaxed in her seat and closed her eyes. “Goodnight, Mulder.”

“Sleep well, Scully.”

While they were flying was the perfect time to look over the articles he’d printed out at the Adamston library but hadn’t had time to read yet. He skimmed over them until he read the name Agnes Adams, wife of Reuben Adams, the founder of Adamston.

Born Agnes Thompson in Virginia in 1789, she was the youngest of five daughters, so her mother was desperate to marry her off. Reuben Adams, who owned plenty of land, proposed in 1814, not long after returning from war. The two of them, as well as thirty others, moved to Illinois territory in 1815, drove out the remaining natives, and created a town.

Adamston thrived for a decade before things started to go downhill. The area was attracting more and more people as the years went on, but firsthand accounts from Adamston residents found that Reuben and Agnes were not getting along. They had stopped going to church by 1827, and in 1828 rumors had started to spread that Agnes was unfaithful to her husband. Because of this, Reuben burned down Agnes’s sunflower garden.

That year, Reuben was not reelected as mayor of Adamston, so he and Agnes moved to a smaller house, where their marriage only got worse. In 1831, Agnes locked Reuben in a closet and gave him no food or water. Within four days, he was dead. Agnes tried to defend herself, telling the jury that he was beating her, but they found her guilty. After the trial, she escaped and fled to Iowa, changing her name and living out the rest of her days on a small farm.

Mulder sat back and looked at the seat in front of him.

“I can hear you thinking,” murmured Scully.

“I’d tell you my theory, but you’re asleep,” said Mulder.

“So you don’t think the town itself is killing people who move away from it anymore?” Scully turned to face Mulder and opened her eyes.

“Not exactly.” Mulder tapped the papers on his lap. “I was reading about Agnes Adams, the wife of the man who founded the town.”

“What about her, Mulder? She’s long dead, she can’t possibly be guilty.”

“Scully, remember yesterday you thought that maybe these people were getting killed because of some revenge plot. Founded on violence and all that?”

“So what? I was just tossing out ideas.”

“See, I think you were right about that,” said Mulder. He glanced around the airplane and lowered his voice. “I think it is Agnes, I think she’s mad about something and that’s what’s causing these people to die in the same way that she killed her husband.”

“Mad about what, Mulder?” said Scully. “And again, what could have changed within the past three years? Why are they dying now all of a sudden?”

“I’m not sure.” Mulder flipped through some pages on his lap. “There’s gotta be something here I’ve missed.”

Scully kept a tight grip on the armrest in between their seats through the turbulence as the plane landed, reading over Mulder’s shoulder. “The statue,” she said eventually.

The ‘keep your seatbelts buckled’ light turned off, and everybody on the plane started to stand up, grab their carryon luggage, and exit. Scully moved to stand up as well, but Mulder grabbed her wrist to keep her in place.

“What statue? What about the statue?” he said.

“It says here they put it up in February of 1996 to commemorate the 220th birthday of Reuben Adams.” Scully pointed to a footnote on the page.

“Sir? Ma’am?” a flight attendant interrupted them. “Can I ask you to please step off the plane?”

“Sure. Come on, Scully,” muttered Mulder, crushing the papers to his chest with one hand and keeping his grip on Scully’s arm with the other.

The second Scully’s heels began to clack on the tile floor of the airport, Mulder spun around to face her. “That’s gotta be it, Scully,” he said, stumbling over his words as his mind raced ahead. “Of course Agnes doesn’t want a statue of the man who abused her in her home.”

“But why go after people who have left? Why not the people who made the statue?”

“Maybe – maybe because they left of their own free will while she was driven out.”

“And why spare Mike? Why only him?”

Mulder smoothed out the papers in his hands and replaced them slowly into the file folder. He put his free hand on Scully’s shoulder and they began to walk again. Having left their luggage in their motel in Aubrey, they were free to leave.

“Why spare Mike?” Scully asked again once they were outside.

“His tattoo.”

“What about it? It was just a flower and the name of the town, I didn’t see any traditionally protective symbols from any culture.”

“I think it was the sunflower that saved him,” replied Mulder. “I read that Agnes grew sunflowers in her garden until Reuben burned it all down. She must have thought the sunflower on the tattoo was for her.”

“So what do we do now?”

“We’ll talk to Captain Kim again. If she doesn’t believe us, we’ll call Skinner.”

Scully nodded in agreement, and the two agents found their car and began the drive back to Adamston.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im mike tbh


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still have a virus on my computer & I can't use the internet so I had to type this all out on my phone like some kind of neanderthal

Scully had refused to call Captain Kim that night. "It'll be well after eight by the time we get back to Adamston," she had said. "She'll have gone home by then. We'll call tomorrow morning."

Reluctantly agreeing, Mulder had said goodnight.

The next morning, Scully called the police station to set up a meeting with Captain Kim. She told them to come around 10, so Mulder and Scully decided to go out for breakfast. Mulder had to squint against the bright sunlight reflecting off the road as he drove.

When they left the diner, Scully shivered. "It's going to rain," she notes. "I can feel the cold front coming in."

"Good thing we'll be inside."

They arrived at the Adamston police station just before 10:00. The same kid as last time was at the front desk, pecking at the keyboard. Again, he didn't look up at them as they approached.

"Excuse me," said Scully. "We're here to see Captain Kim, we're her ten o'clock."

"Sure," mumbled the secretary. "Go on up."

So Mulder and Scully went up the staircase and knocked on the door to Captain Kim's office. Like last time, the door was open, but they still waited until they heard Kim tell them to come in.

They sat down in the wooden chairs as Kim asked them, "So what did Mike have to say?"

Mulder explained what they had found out and what conclusions they'd arrived at.

Kim raised an eyebrow. "That doesn't seem likely to me."

"Why not?" asked Mulder. "It follows all the evidence."

"Agent Mulder, if you expect me to believe that a ghost is causing all these people to die, you are mistaken."

Before either Mulder or Scully could reply, a siren began to sound.

"Is that a tornado siren?" said Mulder. "Just a drill?"

Kim shook her head, standing up. "It's probably just a false alarm, but we should go take cover in the lower level. Follow me." She led them out of her office and down the stairs.

Other officers and staff were heading in the same direction; there was a section of hallway about twenty feet long labeled 'Tornado Shelter.' Captain Kim told Mulder and Scully to stay there while she went to check out a weather forecast.

"You were right about that storm, Scully," said Mulder, nudging her shoulder with his own.

"I didn't think there was going to be a tornado," replied Scully. "They can't happen often this far north."

"I don't think they do. Nobody here seems concerned."

He was right; they didn't. Most of the others in the hallway seemed annoyed at the interruption. One staff member said that he was going to the vending machines upstairs and asked his companion if he wanted anything.

"That's how I would feel if the sirens went off in DC," added Mulder.

"Our office is in the basement, Mulder, we'd have nothing to worry about," Scully pointed out.

"That's true," agreed Mulder. "You know, I'm not even sure we would hear the sirens down there."

Captain Kim returned then. "I got Ethan to pull up the weather forecast, and it looks like something big is about to hit us," she told them. "From the radar, we might be here for awhile."

"Storms like this don't usually happen here, do they?" asked Scully.

"Sometimes yes, although not usually with the tornado warning," said Kim. "There hasn't been a tornado here since 1983, it's not likely that-"

Before she could finish, the lights flickered once and then went out completely. The hallway fell silent, except for the sound of the wind howling above them.

When the walls started to shake, Scully grabbed onto Mulder's arm and held on tight. It seemed as if everyone was holding their breath until it passed, as if it wouldn't notice them if only they kept quiet.

No one was quite sure when it was safe to speak again. The sirens were still blaring, but after awhile the voices of the others in the hallway drowned them out. The lights remained off - power lines must have been knocked down. Mulder glanced at his watch before realizing that he wouldn't be able to see it in the dark.

"Was that a real tornado, do you think?" said Scully, the words coming out hoarsely and much quieter than she'd intended.

But Mulder had heard her. "If it was, it must have skipped over this building, or else we would have hears it collapse."

"I'm going to check it out," said Captain Kim. "I'll be back shortly."

Mulder put his hand over Scully's. Neither said a word until Captain Kim returned.

"It's raining, and the thunder seems to be farther away," she said. "I think it's safe to come back up, but you may want to stay here for longer to be safe."

"Did you get a look outside?" Mulder asked her. "Do any buildings look like they were hit?"

"No," said Kim. "I only got a quick look, but everything seems fine. I'm not sure there even was a tornado. Strong winds, yes. Tornado, probably not."

"Actually, I think there was, and I think I know where it hit," said Mulder. "Is it safe to drive?"

"Where are we going?" asked Scully.

"To the library."

"Why the library, Mulder? Why would a tornado hit only the library?"

"I don't think it hit the library, Scully," said Mulder. "I think it went for the statue out front. I think that's all it got."

"Mulder, tornadoes are not sentient beings," protested Scully. "It's not possible for a tornado to just pick and choose where it wants to touch down."

"Captain Kim, would you mind if we went ahead and checked it out?" said Mulder.

After a brief moment's pause, as if she were deliberating, Kim said, "Yes. Let's go."

The three of them ducked around the people in the crowded hallway. They were the only ones to leave, and the rest of the building was eerily quiet without them.

Outside was even more unsettling. The rain had stopped and the wind had slowed; it was as if the entire world had stopped moving. Only the tornado siren kept wailing, and Mulder had to shout over it.

"See, Scully? You heard that tornado, and no damage has been done."

"It's possible there was no tornado at all."

"Just wait until we get to the library."

There were no other cars on the road as the three of them drove the short distance to the town library. Mulder turned the radio on. The signal was weak because of the storm, but they could pick up on words like "confirmed tornado touch down in Adamston" and "stay inside away from windows."

"It looks fine from here, Mulder," said Scully as they pulled into the parking lot 

And it did. It was almost impossible to tell that there had just been a storm - there was no wind damage to the building or to any of the nearby trees or bushes.

Kim parked, and Mulder got out of the car first. Without waiting for them, he headed for the front of the library.

Scully got out next and started to chase after him. She found him standing in front of a thousand pieces of shattered white marble.

 

***

 

Scully sat down at her computer. She opened up a file from four months ago and started typing.

Addendum to case report:

Agent Mulder recently received a phone call from the Adamston Police Chief, Captain May Kim. She told him that since the case closed last September, four more families have moved out of the town. She has kept in contact with all of them because of the events that occurred from 1996-1999. None have died from the intense dehydration that we found on the forty-four previous victims.

Agent Mulder believes that this is because the statue of Reuben Adams outside the library was destroyed in the tornado while he and I were in town investigating the case. He believes that the building of the statue awakened the spirit of Agnes Adams, who was angry that there was a statue of the man who abused her displayed outside of the library.

At present, the mayor of Adamston has no plans to rebuild the statue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for the kind comments, and for sticking with me until the end.
> 
> Shoutout especially to Jordan for reading despite not having seen the x files (and then binging part of season 1 until 9am one morning).


End file.
